Words and Actions
by rividori
Summary: A collection of various stories. House/Wilson. Slash.
1. Persuasion

House was in the hazy area between sleeping and waking when the feel of warm fingertips touched the side of his face. It disappeared, only to come back, tracing along his lips.

House twitched away, burying his face deeper into his pillow. "Stop poking me." His voice was gravelly from sleep, eyelids still too heavy to open.

"I'm not _poking _you." Wilson sounded amused, and House felt him move a little closer.

House chose to ignore him, willing sleep to creep up on him again, before he felt a hand run over his head. Opening his eyes reluctantly, he found Wilson lying on his side, propped up on his elbow, looking up at where his hand was running over the top of House's hair, then down his neck. His scalp thrilled with sensation, ran through him, and made him shiver. Wilson looked at him then, and House caught a glimpse of that indulgent little smile of his; that telltale sign that he was about to become putty in Wilson's hands.

House gave a whiny groan of annoyance as he rolled over onto his back. He'd fight him off for as long as possible, no matter what Wilson said or did. It was too early in the morning for touchy-feely, just as it was too early in the morning for a smug, self-satisfied Wilson.

He felt a hand on his arm then, and then a single finger gliding down his forearm.

"What do you want to do today?"

That _tone._ House knew it all too well. He could try if he liked, but subtlety was something that Wilson had thrown out the window the day when no second thought was given to cornering someone in a glass-walled office.

"Sleep." House stated, turning his head away from Wilson, another act of defiance.

"You can't sleep all day."

"Just watch me." Though now, he was so self-aware of Wilson beside him that sleep was going to be impossible, and, he had to admit, not particularly favourable. He could hear Wilson shifting around next to him, but he kept his face turned steadfastly to the wall.

He was just considering the actual likelihood of Wilson giving up his persistence when he flinched; a sudden feeling of moisture trailing along his side. Quickly, he looked over at Wilson who was tracing a line with his tongue, up and around, just under his ribcage. Saliva pooled in his mouth, forcing him to swallow thickly as Wilson pushed the covers further down and positioned himself over his body.

"You're not half obvious." House managed to say; arms outstretched to take hold of Wilson's hips. Wilson didn't respond. He would know now that he was just saying things for the sake of it.

Wilson dragged his open mouth up along his rising, falling chest, hot breath against his skin; the low heat of it spreading throughout his body.

And Wilson drew himself up on his hands only to lean in again slowly. House watched, taking in the way Wilson's eyes darted down to his mouth before he kissed him.

Then he focused on that; the first press of lips, gentle, fleeting, disappearing; waiting for the feeling to return. Another quick kiss, and a different angle, before Wilson's mouth moved so languidly against his own, and he was able to really taste; his lips and tongue. It was an indescribable feeling for him every time, only that he really felt desirable. Desirable to Wilson.

He was only vaguely aware of Wilson's hands on the side of his face, of the small sounds of appreciation, and of the fact that in the mornings, Wilson smelt like him.

Wilson broke the kiss with a lick of his lips; his eyes still so close that House had to blink twice to focus on them. Then Wilson leaned back just slightly, and he spoke with underlying intensity, "I like you."

House stared up at him for a moment, looking over his face, and holding his breath for reasons beyond him. He wasn't entirely sure if it was ever Wilson's intention to make the things he said sound so seductive.

Either way, he reached up to the back of Wilson's head, fingers through his hair, inviting him down to his mouth again.

With a complete change of mind, House decided that it was never too early in the morning.

For anything.


	2. Feeling

He must have seen it in my eyes. My heart raced at the acknowledgement in his.

It was what I'd wanted, and yet I still felt like running. If only.

I made it to the door, but I'm easily caught.

Wait, he said; pleading, pulling me back, firmly gripping my arm. He leaned into me but I couldn't look at him.

Don't leave, he whispered, Don't leave.

I wouldn't. And I don't. Still, I stay turned away. This was happening, and it was already too much. I don't know if I'm ready. I only ever _think_ I am.

He turned me to him, and pushed me gently to the door. Hyper-aware of every touch and subtle move, I gripped my cane, held it tightly.

He looked down at me, and slid his hand over mine. More contact. Warm and secure.

He plied every one of my fingers away until I let go, and he placed it aside.

I watched him as I tried and failed to steady each breath.

He reached his hand out, completely brushing past me…

The turn of the lock was a shock in the quiet. It sounded so much like finality. Inevitability. I was waiting; left with the anticipation.

In all my dreams of a moment like this, I had imagined things happening quickly; too far gone and too desperate to stop. No time to catch up. Demanding, controlling. Rough, even. No touch misplaced. No kiss unwanted. After all this time, close could never really be too close.

Now he seemed to move slowly for my benefit. And I was still catching up. I liked to think that he was nervous too. If he was nervous then he cared.

His hands were on me, moving around me, getting closer.

I closed my eyes.

He kissed me; a brief touch to my lower lip where he lingered. Our mouths merely aligned together, not moving, with enough room in between to taste him each time he breathed out.

I waited until my mind decided to join me again before I dipped my head, seeking to press my mouth fully against his.

His lips parted. I didn't hesitate. In all eagerness now, I reached out blindly to him, pulled him closer.

There was heat - crowding around me, running through me. Insistent mouth. A silent claim.

He pulled away, his face coming alongside mine. He breathed out in a rush against my ear, and his closeness hit me suddenly.

In that instant, the one and only thing that was on my mind left my mouth,

Wilson…

The warm breathing paused against my skin, but he remained there. Very still. Slowly, I opened my eyes, blinked everything back into focus. He moved, placed his head on my shoulder, and held onto me quietly, fingers gripping round my arms again and again.

I wondered if he'd just been caught in the moment, if now he was realising a mistake, if hearing his name spoken like that had somehow made this whole thing a little too real.

I wondered why – at the last minute – I became suspicious of that.

I still had hold of him, not wanting to let him go.

I needed him. I needed _this_. I needed something to believe in.

He lifted his head. I waited.

House… I love you. He looked up at me, his eyes dark and searching, holding me still, I _love_ you.


	3. The Choice

A/N: Drabble set after 'The Choice.' House/Cuddy, House/Wilson.

* * *

You want her to leave him because he doesn't deserve her. You want her to come to you on her own, so you'll know that it's genuine. You know if given the choice, you'd choose her over alcohol or any other drug. You know if given the chance, you could be what she wants and what she needs.

You'd try harder; whatever it took. No more games and no more mistakes. You'd be devoted. You'd make her happy.

You could do that. You could be more than a friend.

And redirected feelings were easier to live with than admitting cowardice.


	4. Rue the Day

Post 7x08 Small Sacrifices.

* * *

The loft was quiet and still when Wilson arrived home, dragging himself through the front door on heavy legs. He lifted his newly bought liquor onto the kitchen counter and looked at the labels on each individual bottle. The whole point of going over to House's was that he wasn't stocked up on the stuff. Well, no, it wasn't the whole point. He'd finished off what little he had here and went to visit him, hoping for a sympathetic shoulder, or if that was asking too much he would have settled for House's brand of 'get-the-fuck-over-it' comfort. He could really use that right now. But those days seemed to be coming to an end. He hadn't realised it fully until tonight when, for the first time in a long time, House had refused his company.

He opened up one of the bottles and raised it to the room at large, chuckling despite himself, before starting to scull it down. He knew this was pitiful but he had a strong need to suppress all the emotions and thoughts of the day. Suppress the hurt of Sam leaving again, of House and Cuddy and the thought of them together.

Sam was gone. It was hard to believe things could turn around so drastically in a day, from having someone in his life and some sort of direction, to having no idea where he was going to end up or what he was even doing. He took the ring from his pocket and placed it on the counter, sighing as he turned away from it, willing that numbing haze to wash over him sooner.

He took another mouthful and as he brought the bottle away from his lips, his eyes fell upon the organ in the corner. He smiled sadly as he walked over to it. He removed the cloth that was covering it and sat down. Placing his bottle on the floor beside his seat he then looked back over the keys, flexing his fingers once before he slid them across the top.

Sam had given up after he'd tried so hard. Tried to do it all, have it all. He'd even entertained the thought of having children with her! He thought he was starting to build this ideal life when really he had no idea what he was doing. He couldn't win.

He pressed down on a few keys but nothing melodious came from it.

He'd had it all within his grasp and then he went and blew it, leaving him with nothing. It was his fault, he knew. He'd pushed too far, moved things too quickly, started making decisions without thinking them through. It was just like every other time. He couldn't ignore that. Yet somehow it was different. Sam may have given up on their relationship but for weeks now he'd felt that he already gave up something worth so much more.

And now...

He balled his fists over the keys and smashed down on them, over and over and over again. The horrible off-key sound filled the room and mingled with the cry he let out.

Now he'd ruined it all.


	5. Green Me

"Well this is adorable," House murmured, as he kissed Wilson's cheek.

"Y- yeah. What?" Wilson leaned away from him, looking him in the eye. "No. It isn't."

"Yes. It is," House insisted, repositioning himself more comfortably on the couch. "You're jealous." He moved in to kiss along Wilson's jaw, bringing his hand up to Wilson's face to prevent him from backing away.

Wilson sighed, turning his eyes to the ceiling. "I'm not jealous. I'm just... annoyed."

"Aha." House scraped his teeth along Wilson's earlobe.

"I... know for a fact that you would be too."

"Probably." House conceded.

"Especially when I see the two of you and... and she's all over you."

"You're exaggerating."

"She knows about us, House, of course she does, but she's still doing it." House leaned back and began untying the knot of Wilson's tie.

"You're right. I'm probably a whole lot more appealing to her now. She probably wants to see if she can turn me straight. But lucky for you," House said, as he pulled the tie from around Wilson's collar, "you've already got me, so the bragging rights are all yours." House tossed the tie aside and kissed him, placing his hands on him and pushing slowly so Wilson took the hint and leant back.

This was good. Very convincing.

And yet...

"Maybe if you just say something to her."

House let his head fall against Wilson's chest.

"No, I don't want to do that. It's nothing that didn't happen before, but now that we're together you're noticing it more." House looked up at him again and a smirk worked its way along his mouth. "Trust me, Wilson. I only have eyes for you." And Wilson had no choice but to watch him lean in slowly, and without blinking.

Wilson looked away. "Then tell her."

There was a pause. "What should I say?"

"That, you know... that I'm your boyfriend."

"Yeah, there's no way I'm saying that. 'Cuddy, stop touching me or I'll get my boyfriend onto you.'

"I know you'd say it just to get attention."

"No, if I wanted attention I'm pretty sure I could come up with something far dirtier and flattering than that. Or I could just stand back and watch the two of you fight over me."

Wilson saw the self-satisfied smile and tried very hard to look unimpressed.

"You could sell tickets," he said.

"I'll split the earnings with you fifty fifty."

Wilson rolled his eyes, "Idiot."

"Ah, but you love me."

House pressed his lips to the side of Wilson's face and settled himself alongside him.

Wilson trailed his hand down House's arm, feeling the crimpled shirt between his fingers. "So what are you going to say when we tell, I mean, you're going to tell your mom eventually aren't you?"

"Sure, but you don't want me to call you 'boyfriend' do you?"

"No. Why? Would you?"

"I don't know. If I'm going to say anything to her it'd be: 'Mom, you know James right? Well, he's now the guy I'm sexually active with."

"Oh, I see. So your plan is to break it to her gently."

"Well, not exactly like that but I'm sure the fact that we're having sex will come up in conversation some time. I'll tell your parents too. We'll invite them all around, including Cuddy if you like, just so the message is clear."

Wilson sighed. "You really are insufferable."

"Maybe. But you love me."

Wilson turned his head and tried his hardest not to smile but House only moved into his line of vision to catch his eye again, smiling, mischief in his eyes, waiting for a response. And Wilson couldn't resist teasing him as he took hold of his collar and brought him down for a kiss, "You'll do."


End file.
